


Eye of the Storm

by siluria



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siluria/pseuds/siluria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easier to ride the storm that is Jim Kirk, than to watch it from afar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Jim/Bones, Hurricane

  
_You do not have to be a hurricane, to turn things around_   


 

The sky darkens so suddenly, the air pressing past you in a quickening rush as if it’s fleeing whatever is looming behind it. You could stand and face it head on, but only fools try that, and only the reckless few will continue to stand as the light leeches away. You grab Jim’s hand and pull him away, the wind and rain knocking your feet out from under you, taking your breath away with the intensity of it all. It’s a shriek of pain against your eardrums, as the world around you is ripped up and torn apart, and you may have given in and sought shelter by now, but you _feel_ it deep in your bones. The energy sizzles around you, through you. Deep rumbles and cracks shaking your foundations until you think you can’t take it anymore.

Then it ends.

At the eye of the storm, it’s calm - so still, free of the pressures swarming around it - and warm, so much warmer than in the surrounding chaos. It’s enveloping, pressing you down until it’s had enough, moving on and thrusting you back out into the madness once more. Back into the howling pain and drowning rain.

They say Jim Kirk is a hurricane. Many have said it, as he breezes through their lives. They can batten down the hatches, hide themselves away in shelter until he passes them by, all the while knowing he’s just _there_. They could keep their distance and choose to fight that bedlam that surrounds him, or they could stay the hell away, out of the reach of his influence. Safest of all is in the center, they say, standing with him as the world goes to hell around him. But you don’t waste your time on ridiculous analogies, nor waste your breath on poetic assessments. You just see things as they are, and tell it _exactly_ how it is.

There’s the faint smell of salt in the air as the rains begin to taper off. A coolness that descends as the cyclone carries off the oppressive heat and humidity of before, leaving the flooded landscape below your cave bathed in nothing but gloom. That’s what you see when you open tired eyes. And maybe you can understand that analogy a little better now you’ve sat through your first hurricane. All that energy, light and sound, leaving destruction and depression behind when it leaves.

You drop your cheek to rest against Jim’s still-damp hair and pull him tighter against you, smiling at the snuffle of complaint and the clench of Jim’s hand where it’s wrapped in the sodden hem of your uniform shirt. Maybe you’ve just gotten used to life in the eye of the storm, but you’ll be dammed if you’re stepping away from wherever that storm takes you.


End file.
